Frank frowns at the explanation, because it's not all that reassuring. Could just be alcohol, could be drugged, and there's no real way to tell, so he huffs a breath and abandons his glass on the nearest ledge after dumping its contents.

Honestly, Frank hasn't felt safe in years, or at least not since he woke up from the coma. Before the wariness was situational, he could turn it on and off, but after...it's like something's broken. Constantly weighing risk, every new face a potential threat, and some familiar ones too. Sure, he can pretend otherwise, but that doesn't make it true.

"So stop drinking it if you feel weird," he answers gruffly, but tries to tone it down some in light of the contact, and the smile. The worry plain on her face, that looks like it has less to do with the drink and more to do with how he's acting, apparently. So he forces a lopsided grin, and makes a concerted effort to stop scanning the place so openly.

Act normal, asshole. Get your shit together, you're freaking her out.

The contact is nice though, settles some of the restlessness.

"I'm fine. It's a party, right? This is me at a party."